


Dream a Little Dream of Me

by cjtheshort



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: (obviously but I'm padding tags), M/M, post-MGS4, smoking mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 16:34:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17308040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjtheshort/pseuds/cjtheshort
Summary: A conversation never had.





	Dream a Little Dream of Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, it's 12:20 AM and I have the flu, enjoy.

 

The bed shifted with the movement of a body and Hal groaned at the sound of bare feet hitting the wooden floor. 6 AM already? He'd just crawled into bed an hour ago, falling into the same bad habits he had as a twenty-something. Maybe Dave would have mercy and let him sleep in this once.

Hal continued to feign sleep as Dave stood, his steps muted and going in an odd direction. One of the dresser drawers scraped open and Dave dug through scraps of paper and spare keys before shutting it with a satisfied grunt.

"What're you doin'?" Hal managed in a low and slurring voice, only going that far to give away his charade. He lay still, cradled in warm sheets with eyes shut.

"Having a smoke." Dave answered. Hal grunted in defeat. "Patches don't work, gum hurts my teeth, and those pills just make me mad." He patted Hal's feet as he walked past. The sliding door to the balcony hissed open, the sounds of an early morning in a small town tumbled in. "Thanks for trying."

Hal hummed out a sarcastic agreement before snuggling down into the covers.

The door hissed closed, hesitant.

He'd sleep off this disappointment, he decided. It wouldn't hurt to face Dave with a smile over Sunny's eggs, act like the smoking habit wasn't something they had been fussing over for an entire decade. And Dave had promised to quit, really quit, try longer than three days.

That wasn't fair. Dave had tried. It had been almost a whole year since his last smoke. That had to be so hard, especially after nearly two packs a day for...forever. Hal remembered the withdrawals; the irritation, the headaches, the fatigue, the way Dave swallowed it all down and refused to let it show.

He should probably apologize.

Forcing himself upright, preparing his tender words, Hal blinked out to the empty balcony. His heart wedged in his throat before he remembered the urn resting on the dresser.

 

 


End file.
